


Devil Distraction

by OrangeTomatoPaste



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 16:39:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4712966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeTomatoPaste/pseuds/OrangeTomatoPaste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesley wanted everything to go perfectly for Fisk. No awkward silences, no unpleasant noises. He didn't really expect the night to slide towards his own enjoyment more than his employer's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devil Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> Just some more Wesley love for those few out there that want to read it. Enjoy!

Wesley had decided that some pleasant background music would be key to a pleasant evening. A simple tune in the background could alleviate any awkward silences, amplify pleasant silences, and overall increase the enjoyment of a quiet supper.  
Never had it crossed his mind how big of a mistake it could become.  
Not for Fisk, no, but for himself.   
Vanessa absolutely loved the college student playing her heart out on the violin. She even requested a few songs from “Fiddler on the Roof”, to which the college girl grinned and fiddled away. Vanessa sang along as the girl danced. Wesley worried that this would prove a distraction, but Fisk seemed to enjoy watching Vanessa sing and smile so bright.   
After Fisk recaptured Vanessa’s attention, that left Wesley and the college student to their own devices. She had her violin, and he had his phone. Nothing unusual. When the phone buzzed, he put it to his ear. Naturally. As Fisk’s personal assistant, he had to answer every call on his work phone.  
As soon Wesley greeted the person on the other end, the violinist sprang over to him. Wesley jumped and tried to back, but she followed, playing a furious solo. Her fingers flew up and down the board and her bow almost hit him in the face. “I’m sorry, could repeat that?” Wesley asked Owsley. She played louder and pressed her back to his. Wesley stiffened and tried to draw away. “Did you say—no, we are not at a club. I can assure you our employer spends his evenings in a respectable manner. What?”  
Frustration pricked at his ears and cheeks in red blotches. He had cornered himself against the host’s podium. “I’m sorry—yes, that—okay. Good-bye.” He ended the call and turned around to face the violinist. “Ms. (Y/L/N),” he greeted.  
She slowed the tune to a quieter waltz, still standing about an inch away. Upon seeing his glare her face lit up. “Hello.”  
“I take it this is the first time you’ve done this?” he asked wryly.  
She grinned and inclined her head, not missing a single note or beat. “It’s rude to answer the phone at a concert.”  
Wesley surveyed her, a laugh threatening to escape his mouth. For a college student, she did dress well. She spoke well, too, and kept an air of confidence rarely deserved by someone younger than thirty. Her dress hugged her figure nicely and kept her looking professional despite her dancing. When he had first seen her, this confidence and beauty had seemed like a great idea. Now he wished he had taken the tall, awkward boy cellist. Or the spitting trumpet.  
“Could you please return to over there?” he requested, shooing her with his hands.  
She pulled a sad face. “Aw. Okay.”  
As she moved away, he breathed a sigh of relief. He turned around to make sure Fisk did not require anything further, but when he looked up he saw Vanessa and Fisk gazing at him. Vanessa had a knowing, almost mischievous smile on her face while Fisk simply looked amused. He raised a hand and motioned Wesley over.  
He hurried over. Luckily the violinist did not follow.  
“I think we are going to leave, Wesley. Thank you for arranging this evening,” Fisk said.  
“Thank you, Wesley. It was perfect,” Vanessa added.  
Wesley bowed his head in acceptance of the praise. “Do you need me to arrange anything further for the night?”  
“As long as my driver is outside, then no. You may go home, Wesley. Thank you.”  
Wesley nodded and stepped back as they stood up. The couple crossed the restaurant and left together, leaving Wesley to tell the cook and violinist to go home, and leaving him to clean up.  
First, he turned to the college student. “Leave,” he ordered. She walked forward, her waltz growing louder with each step. Wesley closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Please, you may stop playing.”  
“You don’t want to dance?” she asked, voice small.  
He blinked. His eyes darted over her dress, her red cheeks, and her shy expression. Oh. The edges of his lips turned upwards. “With a violin in your hands?”  
“I suppose you could sing instead.”  
Wesley winced. When he had interviewed the players, he had poorly described a Shostakovich piece with ‘dum-dum’s and ‘da-da’s. Everyone seemed too intimidated to laugh then. Except this one. This apparently exceptional college girl. “Why don’t you just keep playing while I close up here?”  
“Alright,” she answered, clearly crestfallen.  
Wesley wanted to explain, but couldn’t find the words. He shook his head and hurried back to the kitchen. The cook looked immensely relieved to go home, and immensely pleased at the wad of cash Wesley handed him. “What do I need to do to clean up?” he asked.  
The cook waved him off. “I’ll come in early and clean up. Go home. And tell the woman that her music was lovely.”  
“Of course. And thank you. Good night.”  
“Good night.”  
That left the violinist, still playing. She plucked away, staring out the window over the city. The cook called her a woman. His mouth went dry as he listened to her slow, soulful music. As he gazed he remembered the long days of school. He remembered the easy humor, the fake confidence, the terror of exams, and the joy of simple activities. When was the last time he had indulged in something as simple as conversation over ice cream? “Do you prefer pizzicato?” Wesley blurted.  
She jumped and turned. “Oh, um—I suppose it depends on the music,” she answered, playing a wrong note and flinching.  
“You do both wonderfully,” he stated. She gave him a small smile as she recaptured the song. “I think you misunderstood me earlier,” Wesley began. “Now that I’ve finished, would you like to go somewhere for late-night refreshments?” For once he cursed his formal speech. “I mean… Would you be willing to let me take you on a date before driving you home? Ice cream? Unless you’re lactose intolerant?”  
Now he was babbling. He cut himself off and folded his hands in front of him. As silence filled between them, he noticed that for the first time since he had met her, she had stopped playing. Even at the interview she kept playing as she walked out of the room and let in the infamous spitting trumpet.  
He looked up and saw her walking towards him. “I would love that,” she answered.  
Wesley let out a breath of relief. “Wonderful. Oh—here, let me get you your case,” he stammered, jumping away and grabbing the black case from another table. “Here.”  
“Thank you.”  
“Of course, of course.” He played with his cufflinks and adjusted his glasses as she wiped her strings clean and set the violin back in its case. The bow slipped into its own case and she faced him. The soft light of the restaurant on her face made him smile for the first time that night. “Let’s go, then.” 

Wesley blinked awake when the sun hit just the right position and shone through the crack in the curtain. He rolled over and turned his head away from the light. “Morning already?” (Y/N) groaned.  
“Mm,” Wesley grunted in answer. He slipped an arm around her waist and buried his face in her neck. Not for the first time he thanked whatever ruled the universe that (Y/N)’s roommate had decided three months was too long to be away from her family and therefore went home to visit. Of course, that also led to the question if (Y/N) often led strange men home to her dorm when her roommate was out…  
She let out a soft sigh and relaxed into his touch. He decided he didn’t care what she usually did. Even if he got just this one night, it would be the best time he had since… Well, he really couldn’t remember the last time he had done something that wasn’t entirely tailored toward furthering his own or Fisk’s position.  
Speaking of his devil job, the phone started ringing.  
Wesley snatched it from the bedside table, pulling himself into a sitting position and pressing the green button. “Good morning,” he greeted. When he glanced over he saw (Y/N) watching him with a smile on her face. He smiled back and placed his hand on her knee before  
“Wesley, are you at NYU?” came Vanessa’s voice.  
His cheeks flushed. “Well… yes.”  
“I told you, Wilson!” she said. Wesley pinched the bridge of his nose. Wonderful. As if Fisk needed to know anything about Wesley’s current personal affairs when he had so much else on his mind. “Wilson says have fun. You’re not late anymore. You can come at noon.”  
“Thank you,” Wesley managed around his embarrassment. The phone clicked, but not before he heard Vanessa’s tinkling laughter. He groaned and flopped back against the pillows. “Wonderful.”  
“Sorry. I forgot about the alarm,” (Y/N) apologized, wrapping her arms around his bare torso.  
He turned to face her, his arms slipping around her waist. “So did I,” he admitted, smiling. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “I was thoroughly distracted,” he mumbled between kisses.  
“You have until noon?”  
“You have good ears. And yes, but don’t forget that I have to get ready.”  
“Well yeah, but you don’t need to worry until ten minutes before hand.”   
Wesley chuckled. “In that case we have about three hours together,” he whispered. “What do you want to do?”  
“Actually, I have a paper due in an hour. I haven’t started.”  
“Seriously?” Wesley sat up with her, grinning. “Shall I help as long as I’m here?” he asked. No plans, no obligations, no expectations from him. Just… freedom. He hoped this would last longer than just today. This was just what he needed to keep his sanity.  
“You’re no help naked. Get dressed, devil distraction.”


End file.
